I thing Father is walking more slowly these past few evenings,Mother,"says peter from the window,watching his father approach. "There is your father at the door now," says Mrs. Cratchit. "Open in for him please, Peter." Bob Cratchit comes is and sits down in chair by the fire. The two young Cratchits climb up on his knees. "Don't be sad,Father." says one child. Bob Cratchit smiles at his family but his eyes are sad. He looks at the tablecloth his wife is making. "You work very hard at your sewing, my dears!" he says to his wife and daughters. "What about the churchyard?The grave?" asks Mrs. Cratchit quietly. "Did you go today?" "Yes. Tiny Tim's grave is beautiful. It is very green." her husband replies in a trembling voice. Then he cries out suddenly." My child! My dear little child! We shall never forget our beloved Tiny Tim!